


The Rest is Unwritten

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has lost his memory and lives as a Muggle. No one seems to care and the Ministry has declined Narcissa's request for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rest is Unwritten

**Author's Note:**

> Dear digthewriter I adored this prompt from the start. The story, however, isn't exactly the one I started out to tell, but I hope that you enjoy it. My undying gratitude to the mods for understanding that my life seems to no longer be under my control. I sincerely hope this was worth the wait. I owe this story to my darling B. Without her this wouldn't be finished and I know for a fact it wouldn't be worth reading. She is, without a doubt, the peanut butter to my jelly. ♥ And to alisanne for her _eleventh hour_ , lightning fast beta. The title is shamelessly stolen from the Natasha Bedingfield song _Unwritten_.

**Prologue**

Draco winced as he tried to open his eyes, quickly closing them against the glare of sunlight. He heard murmuring around him and wanted to tell everyone to stop asking him questions. _Shite, what had he had to drink last night?_ Slowly he became aware of hardness beneath him and wondered if he'd slept on the floor all night. He was chilled to the bone and his head felt as if it were too big for his body. 

"Mummy, is he alive?" The voice was shrill and sounded child-like.

"Don't touch him," another, older voice hissed. "I've contacted the medics, they should be here shortly."

 _Medics?_ Draco wondered before the world slipped away.

oo00oo

"Thank you for seeing me, Auror Robards," Narcissa said softly.

Robards nodded. "Please have a seat." He stood until she sat before rounding his desk and taking a seat himself. "You told my secretary it was urgent that you speak with me. How exactly can I help you?"

"I find myself in an unusual situation," she began. "In the past I've found dealing with the Auror Division resulted in distrust on both sides. However, I must put my distrust aside and ask for your assistance."

"Why would you need our help?" Robards barked out a laugh. When he continued, his tone was thinly veiled with dislike. "If you need help clearing that mausoleum of yours of dark objects, I suggest you head over to Gringotts and ask for their assistance." 

Narcissa forced herself to stay in her seat, clasping her hands together to prevent them from finding their way around Robards neck. "I assure you that if I were to need someone to, as you so indelicately put it, _clear dark objects from my mausoleum_ , I would not be sitting here." She went on before he could speak. "It's about my son, Draco."

"What's the boy done now? You'd think after Harry Potter spoke up for him at the trials, he'd be doing all he could to keep his nose clean."

"My son is missing, Auror Robards." Narcissa's voice faltered. "I'm here to ask for help in finding him."

Robards looked unconcerned. "He probably just took off. Needed some time alone. You know how children are, flighty… irresponsible… self-centred. No doubt he'll get in touch with you soon. Probably when his money runs out."

"That's just it!" Narcissa struggled for composure. "There's nothing missing from his suite and his account at Gringotts has not been touched."

"I understand your concern, Ma'am, but without any real proof that he's not just taking a few days to himself," Robards gave a nonchalant shrug, "I'm afraid there's nothing the Auror Division can do to help you."

Narcissa rose to her feet, clutching her dignity, lifting her chin. "I know my son. He'd never just go away without a word."

Robards stood as well and moved to the door. "If you find evidence to suggest the boy isn't just enjoying a few days away from home, please let me know. Until then, you mark my words – he'll turn up at home and you'll be wondering why you even worried about him."

She held her head high on her way out, all the while wanting to scream in frustration. She knew in her heart something had happened to Draco and there was nothing on this earth that would stop her from finding him.

oo00oo

Narcissa spent the next fortnight calling in every favour she could, but to no avail. No one had heard from or seen Draco. He'd met with Blaise at a small patisserie in Regent's Park. According to Blaise, the conversation hadn't been in the least unusual. They talked of the latest Quidditch matches and Draco had seemed in very good spirits. They parted mid-afternoon. Draco told Blaise he wanted to walk to the Apparition point on the south end of the park and that was the last anyone had seen of him.

Two weeks after her first visit to see Auror Robards, Narcissa went to visit him again. This time she was told he was "out on a case" and it was recommended she file the appropriate papers with the clerk. Narcissa knew that if Draco was to be found, she would have to find him herself.

 

**Part 1**

Narcissa stood on the pavement across the street from a small, but apparently clean, establishment she'd heard the Muggles call a _chip shop_. She forced hands that wanted to tug at the unfamiliar Muggle clothing to be still while she waited. She'd told herself all morning that this was just another in a seemingly endless line of false leads. It was the lunch hour and the little shop was full of people that blocked her view of the counter. Finally a man turned to leave and for just a moment she had an unobstructed view of the counter. Standing in the gap behind the dark wooden counter was a tall, willowy lean man with white blond hair and faintly pointed features. After three years of searching, she'd found Draco.

Narcissa gasped aloud and clutched at her chest. 

"You all right there, lady?" a passing man said, pausing and catching her elbow gently. Narcissa stared straight ahead, unblinking. "Lady?" 

"Oh." She shook her head to clear it. "Yes, thank you. I'm sorry. For a moment I thought I…" She peered around the gentleman to look back through the window, but the crowd had moved and her view was gone. Struggling to regain her composure, she smiled weakly. "Perhaps skipping breakfast wasn't a wise decision. Thank you again for your kindness, but I'm fine."

The man looked unconvinced, but nodded and went on his way. 

Narcissa had noticed a small café with outside seating just down from where she stood. Forcing her unsteady legs to move, she walked the short distance and took a seat at the first empty table. After ordering a pot of strong tea and a plate of sandwiches, she moved her chair to watch the front of the restaurant. After nearly an entire pot of tea, the crowd thinned and Narcissa saw Draco walk to the eating counter by the front window. He picked up some trash that had been left behind and wiped the counter, chatting with several patrons as he worked. 

Narcissa, dizzy with relief, forced herself to remain seated. Whatever had caused Draco to leave before certainly wouldn't be resolved by her bursting in while he worked and demanding he come home immediately. Instead she drank her tea and waited until the lunch crowd was mostly gone. Steeling her reserve, she left money on the table for the bill and walked across the street. 

She entered the shop, barely able to hide her disgust at the smell of fried fish, and took her place in the short line. As she approached the counter, she waited in breathless anticipation of speaking to her son. Finally it was her turn at the counter. Draco turned to her with a tired, distracted smile.

"What would you like, ma'am?" he asked politely, as he had to every other customer. Then, for just a moment, he paused, looking at her quizzically. He pulled his eyes away, staring at the register as his hand lifted to hover over the buttons, a frown between his brows. 

Narcissa stared at his face, longing for him to look up and say 'mother'. But he didn't, although when his eyes lifted back to hers he looked wary, and faintly troubled.

Narcissa paused. "Today's special," she said, recalling the order before her. Draco totalled up her order and she handed him some bills, longing to grab his calloused hand in hers and drag him from the shop. She continued to stare, still waiting for him to acknowledge her.

"Was there something else you needed, ma'am?" Draco asked, his face a picture of bewilderment. 

Unable to utter a sound, Narcissa shook her head and moved to the side to wait for her unwanted food. She gathered her order and moved to door, her mind whirling as _he doesn't know me_ repeated over and over in her head. She was nearly out the door when she caught a conversation between Draco and another employee.

"Did you see that, Drew? That lady looks like you. She some sort of relative?"

"No clue, never seen her before," Draco said with an air of nonchalance. 

Narcissa felt her heart break as the door closed behind her.

oo00oo

"Auror Robards," Narcissa insisted, "are you even listening to me? I said I've found Draco and you must go and save him from that dreadful place."

"Ma'am," Robards replied stiffly. "I've heard every word you've shouted at me. And if you do not lower your voice, I will end this Floo call immediately." He waited a beat before continuing. "We have no proof that the boy you saw was your son."

"I believe I know my own son, sir," Narcissa snapped.

Robards nodded. "Most likely. Let's just for a moment say that you have found your son. You've indicated that he appeared healthy. We can't just go bursting into a Muggle establishment and drag him out." He shrugged. "Take his ignoring you as a sign, ma'am, that he doesn't want to come back and let him go."

"Auror Robards?" Narcissa asked as she gathered her last bit of restraint, "do you have children?"

"No, ma'am, never wanted any."

"You un-conceived offspring should count themselves lucky," she shot back ending the Floo call with a muttered, " _Imbecile_."

Narcissa sat back on her heels, still kneeling at the hearth edge and fought the urge to cry. She stood slowly and moved to a nearby chair where she sat staring blankly into the fire. She was unaware of the tears of frustration that slid down her cheeks.

oo00oo

"I've been back several times in the past two weeks, Andie. He speaks to me just as he does all the other patrons that come in." Narcissa's voice was laced with anguish.

"Have you tried to talk to him?" Andromeda asked. "It could be he's waiting for you to make the first move."

Narcissa shook her head. "No, it's quite apparent he has no idea who I am." She paused. "Although the first time I was in the shop, he seemed… I don't know. Troubled by my appearance. That's it. Troubled, Andie. I would swear he recognized me as someone he _should_ know, just for a moment."

"I'll go with you tomorrow. I can watch him and let you know what I think."

"That would be wonderful, but what about Teddy? He's a darling child, but he's seen photographs of Draco." Narcissa laid a hand on her sister's arm. "What if he called out Draco's name? I can't take that chance."

"Oh, Merlin no," Andromeda agreed. "Tomorrow is Harry's day with Teddy. I'll just tell him we're going for a bit of shopping. He'll be tickled to have Teddy to himself for a few hours."

Narcissa nodded. "Perfect." She caught her sister's hand and held it tight. "What could have happened to him? Do you think this is because he doesn't want to remember what happened during the war?"

"Cissa," Andromeda said gently but firmly. "There's no sense speculating what happened. Let's just take things one day at a time."

Narcissa nodded then rose, kissing Andromeda on the cheek before moving to the fireplace. "I'll see you tomorrow around eleven." She smiled briefly before throwing in the Floo powder and calling out, "Malfoy Manor."

oo00oo

Andromeda entered her living room and sat heavily in a chair across from Harry.

"Narcissa run you ragged with all that shopping, Andie?" His smile faltered when he noticed how her brow was furrowed.

She sighed. "Cissa has found Draco." Tears formed in her eyes and she swiped at them absently. 

Harry stared, mouth agape. After several moments he shook his head. "But where? How?" Draco's disappearance had been all over the Daily Prophet and Andie had spoken to Harry about how distraught Narcissa was over it. Harry's voice became hard. "What in the hell was he thinking taking off like that without a word?"

Andromeda interrupted him before he could continue. "Harry, he didn't know us."

"What do you mean, he didn't know you?"

"There's something wrong with him." Andromeda spoke softly. "When he looked at me I was positive he was going to greet me. But then quick as a flash… it was like any recognition was gone."

"But surely he recognized Narcissa," Harry insisted. "For Merlin's sake, she's his mother."

"She's been going to the shop where he works at for nearly two weeks. He greets her just like he greets all the patrons." 

"Patrons? What's he doing?"

Andromeda looked down at her hands as they twisted a handkerchief in them. "He works in a chip shop in Reading."

Harry laughed. "You're having me on, Andie. Malfoy? Working in a chippy?" His amusement faded when he realized Andromeda wasn't smiling. He moved to the chair next to hers and sat, patting her arm. "Is it possible it wasn't him?"

"My eyes may have a few years on them, but I know what I saw. And Narcissa. I told you she's been going there for the last two weeks, nearly every day, just to look at him. Are you going to tell me she wouldn't know her own son?" 

Harry frowned, then shook his head.

"I think Narcissa hoped when Draco saw us together, it would spur some memory for him. But it didn't." She sighed, then seemed to put it from her.

"But enough of that. How was Teddy? Did he behave for you?"

"We went to the play park and I'm afraid we may have had a bit too much fun. He's been asleep since we came in." Harry's smile returned as he talked about his godson.

Andromeda laughed. "Nothing wrong with some fresh air and exercise. Will you be staying for supper?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but tell Teddy I'll be back in a few days." He rose and kissed Andromeda on the cheek before Flooing home.

oo00oo

As hard as he tried, Harry couldn't get Andromeda's sorrowful expression out of his mind. He knew from the Weasleys how difficult it was for a mother to lose a child. Even after all this time, Harry would see Molly pause and stare at a photograph of Fred, and a look of profound sorrow would cross her face.

He kept thinking about how difficult it had to be for Narcissa. During the war, she'd risked everything once she knew Draco was alive. How would it feel to have made it through a war only to lose your son a few years later? It had to be devastating. Harry shook his head. He couldn't figure out why it bothered him so. He only knew that it did.

On his next scheduled visit with Teddy, Harry stepped through the Floo into Andromeda's living room. He followed voices he heard into the kitchen and was startled to find it wasn't Teddy at the table, but Narcissa. Harry was embarrassed that he'd obviously interrupted them, for when she looked up at him her eyes were red-rimmed and a tear slipped down her pale cheek. 

"I… I'm sorry." Harry stammered. "I came to see Teddy." He turned, unaccustomed to seeing the woman who'd so boldly defied Voldemort looking distraught. "I'll come back another time."

Narcissa's voice was so quiet Harry nearly missed her speaking. "No, please stay. I'd like a word, if I may, Mr Potter."

"Cissa," Andromeda said softly.

"I have no other options, Andie. No one will help me." 

Harry turned back to the sisters, so different in appearance and yet he knew that to them both, family was of the utmost importance. 

Narcissa dampened her lips and folded her hands on the table top. "Mr Potter, I understand my sister has informed you that I have located Draco."

Harry nodded.

"While I am not certain of the circumstances surrounding his current situation, I feel very strongly that his memory has been tampered with." She paused, blinking quickly, and Harry realized she was trying very hard to contain her grief. "I have been to his place of employment several times and he does not know me. I had hoped that bringing Andromeda with me would spark some sort of memory. Or at the very least shock him that we were together." She gave him a rueful smile. 

"If you think he's been Obliviated, you should go to the Aurors, Mrs Malfoy." He offered her a weak smile. "Harry, please. No one has called me Mr Potter since Professor McGonagall."

Narcissa nodded. "Then I must ask you to call me Narcissa, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Okay, back to your theory. You need the Aurors or at least a Curse Breaker," he spread his hands and shrugged, "and I'm neither. I'm sure Andie's told you that I work with George Weasley."

"I'm aware of your current situation. And I've been to the Aurors to ask for their assistance. I was told by that imbecilic Head Auror _Your son is going through a rebellious phase and will come home when he's ready_. Needless to say, I'll not be receiving any assistance from the Auror department."

Harry frowned. "What are you asking me to do?" 

"I'd like you to go with me to the…" she hesitated, "shop."

Harry laughed wryly. "Mrs Malf… Narcissa. If you're hoping seeing me will spark a memory for Draco, that might not be the best idea."

Narcissa began to speak and Harry stopped her with an outstretched hand.

"You know Draco and I have a history that's not very good." She nodded. "Well, that's putting it mildly. I suspect the reaction you'd get would be him jumping over the counter and attempting to strangle me," he said. 

"At least it would mean he remembers something!" Narcissa replied. She took a deep, steadying breath. "Harry, all I'm asking is for you to go with me to Draco's place of employment and allow me to treat you to lunch. Is that too much to ask?"

Harry hesitated and Narcissa struck.

"Must I remind you that I did save your life in the forest?" she whispered. 

Harry flushed. "That's not playing fair."

Narcissa levelled her gaze at him. "This is not a game and I am not playing. This is my son's life and I will take whatever steps I must to save him. Including calling in a _life debt_."

"Narcissa!" Andie gasped. "You can't force Harry that way."

Narcissa turned to her sister with a tortured look. "What would you do, Andie, if given the opportunity to save your child?"

Andromeda inhaled sharply, her eyes closing. When she opened them, they were bright with tears. "Anything," she finally said. "Anything."

"I'll do it," Harry offered slowly. "I have a bad feeling about it, but you're right. I do owe you and if this is how I can repay that debt… I'll do it."

  
  
 **Part 2**

Harry agreed to meet Mrs Malfoy the next afternoon and go for lunch at the chip shop. He tried to refer to her as Narcissa, but he knew he'd never think of her that way. Even though he wore Muggle clothes all the time, he chose his wardrobe carefully in deference to the elegant way she was always turned out, even in Muggle clothing herself. Hermione had picked the pale grey button down and Ginny had harassed him until he bought the black denims.

"How do you expect to ever get laid if they can't see your arse?"

He'd sent her a dark look, but he'd bought the snug trousers. The black leather jacket and boots he'd picked out himself. 

Ever since he'd come out after the war, Hermione and Ginny seemed to feel it was their responsibility to make sure he wasn't alone. Dating within the wizarding world as 'Harry Potter, boy hero' was fraught with difficulty, and he'd dated more than his fair share of losers. With the girls vetting every potential boyfriend with an eagle eye and grim determination, his dating life hadn't picked up much. But they were not deterred. "We just need to find you one really good one," Hermione said often. Frankly, Harry had begun to doubt such a creature existed, and he'd become very proficient in taking things, quite literally, _into his own hand_. 

Wearing the fitted clothing, something that still made him vaguely uncomfortable, he Apparated into a convenient nearby alley and walked out into the early afternoon sunshine. Immediately he spotted Narcissa Malfoy standing nearby, gazing across the street at what appeared to be a typical, run-down chip store. He walked up beside her, examining the interior through the dingy windows. He watched the bodies shifting on the other side of the glass, and absently thought they were doing a pretty brisk business for mid-afternoon. When a tall, slender man in a white long-sleeved jumper appeared at the front counter, Narcissa gasped and caught Harry's sleeve, her nails digging in to the arm beneath. His gaze sharpened.

The man wiping down the counter and collecting discarded cups and greasy paper looked nothing like the Draco Malfoy he'd last seen at the War Trials. That Malfoy had been painfully thin and wan, with dark circles under his eyes. Harry could only imagine what time spent in a cell in Azkaban must have been like for Malfoy, but appearances then had made him look days from death. It had actually frightened Harry. He had been so concerned he'd asked Andie to check on Draco. All she would report in reply was that he would survive. That was before he disappeared, of course. But if appearances _now_ were to be believed, exile had been good for him; really good.

Malfoy had always been taller than Harry by a good four inches but he'd been skinny, all sharp knees and elbows. The man in the chip shop wasn't skinny. Even wearing a black apron over his thin jumper, Harry could see the shape of muscular biceps and square, solid shoulders. His hair was different from how Malfoy had used to wear it; shorter in the back and on the sides but long in the front, a swath of white blond swinging down over his brows. He occasionally tossed his head to get it out of his eyes, and the gesture on him was surprisingly attractive. Someone inside the shop said something to Malfoy, and he turned and smiled, and Harry felt warmth suffuse him from his face to his toes. That smile. God, it was a glamorous thing. His teeth flashed and his full lips pulled up and back, and Harry could only stare. He'd always thought of Malfoy as being pointy and obnoxious, not this sort of… beautiful guy in the window.

Narcissa started across the street, and it was a moment before Harry realized she'd moved. He lurched after her to catch up, feeling as wrong footed as he had as a teen. He'd promised to help her, but right then he'd have rather been anywhere then walking into that chippy. She opened the door and a wave of warm, fish scented air brushed Harry's face. He took a deep breath and followed.

Malfoy had moved back behind the counter, and Harry had the opportunity to study him as he spoke with his co-workers. He could hear his tone, and there wasn't an ounce of snark in it. And he wasn't curling his lip or looking down his nose. It was astonishing to Harry. Malfoy was acting… normal, and Harry was having a hard time wrapping his head around it. He stared, looking for something, anything that reminded him of the old Draco. What he saw instead was that one of Malfoy's co-workers nudged him, gesturing toward Harry with a sly grin. Harry startled, heat filling his face. 

Malfoy followed his friend's gesture, and he looked up. Harry felt his gaze as if it was the touch of his hand. He held his breath, waiting for the sneer, the snarl. When instead he saw appraisal and frank appreciation fill the familiar grey eyes, Harry caught his breath. Malfoy dipped his chin, giving Harry a smile from under his fringe, and Harry felt it clear to his toes. 

From that moment in the clearing when Narcissa Malfoy had lied to Voldemort, Harry had known Malfoy's mother might be many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Still waiting in line, she looked at her son, then turned and looked at Harry with one perfectly tweezed brow at a wry angle, and Harry felt his face heat all over again. It was one thing to have a good looking guy check him out in front of his friends; it was another altogether for it to happen in front of the guy's _mother_.

When Harry got to the counter after Narcissa had placed her order and stepped aside, he ordered chips. Malfoy caught his eyes again and smiled, and Harry returned the smile shyly. He felt like he'd wakened in a parallel universe, one where Malfoy apparently thought he was hot. Harry couldn't wrap his head around it. 

"You just want chips?" the girl at the register said with a thick cockney accent and a sassy grin. "Sure we can't interest you in a side order of Drew?"

 _Drew_ , Harry thought. _Interesting_.

Malfoy shot her an irritated look and swatted at her with his towel. She just dodged the damp fabric and grinned, and Malfoy gave a long suffering sigh.

"Ignore her," he said, addressing Harry directly, and it sort of sounded like Malfoy without the trademark Malfoy drawl, his voice was deeper, smoother. "She's never had a gay friend before, and she thinks it her job to fix me up."

"It's okay. I have two friends who do the same thing."

Malfoy gave him another bone melting smile. "What is it with girls, anyway? Like… we need their help?"

His co-worker propped her hand on her ample hip. "And when exactly was it you got laid last?"

The male workers loitering near them whistled and made kissing noise, and Harry was delighted when a flush spread over Malfoy's high cheekbones.

"Shut it, Moira," Malfoy muttered, and she grinned at Harry and handed him a number.

Harry turned and followed Narcissa to a table in the corner, averting his eyes as he sat across from her. There were several moments of extremely awkward silence. Finally, Narcissa cleared her throat.

"Well, that was certainly – educational."

Harry lifted his eyes warily. "Ma'am?"

Her features looked faintly pinched. She sniffed delicately. "Well, it isn't every day one watches one's son …examine another young man with such bald staunchness of purpose."

Harry frowned. "Ma'am?"

She huffed in exasperation. "Well, he was – 'checking you out', was he not?"

His face felt as if it were on fire. "I don't know about that."

"Then the rumours alleging your limited intelligence must have been true," she said, brows arched. "To paraphrase a sentiment that I do believe has survived from my adolescence, he clearly wants in your pants."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. Of all the things he might have expected her to say, that certainly wasn't one of them.

They didn't speak again until their food was delivered. 'Drew' placed their orders in front of them, and as he walked behind him, Harry felt a fleeting touch on his lower back. He turned and watched him walk away, and felt a moment of complete mortification when he realized he'd watched Malfoy's arse all the way back to the front of the shop. He prayed that Narcissa hadn't noticed, but when he glanced at her the pinch of her lips told him she had.

The chips were precisely how Harry liked them, but they tasted like gooey cardboard in his mouth. He ate them, glancing back at Malfoy occasionally to find while he was watching, he was being watched. It wasn't until he popped the last chip into his mouth that he realized something was written on the greasy paper. 

"I get off at 8 tonight. Drinks?" Then beneath it was written in a fine, strong hand, "And the name is Drew Martin." Following that was a mobile number.

Harry didn't attempt to hide the message, and he wasn't surprised when Narcissa handed him a Muggle pen from inside her bag. "I would hope you intend to follow all leads?" she said archly as she held out the pen.

Harry finally took it from her. He scrawled, "Drinks sound good. And my name is Harry Potter." There, he thought. If anything might jog his memory, it could be Harry's name. Harry knew Malfoy's as well as his own; he figured Draco must be the same. 

Moira collected their rubbish, and they sat casually waiting. It didn't take long.

'Drew' approached the table with an easy smile. "So, how is it you happen to know one of our most loyal customers?" he asked Harry as he smiled at Narcissa. Harry opened his mouth, but he wasn't fast enough.

"I knew dear Harry's parents when I was at school," Narcissa said smoothly. "And he and I go way back." She shot him a sidelong look.

Malfoy laughed. "How far back could you go? You're what? Nineteen?"

"I'm twenty," Harry responded, stung but knowing he did, in fact, look young. "But I've known the Malfoys since I was eleven."

It wasn't a lie, after all. And for just a moment, he saw what he thought Narcissa and Andie must have. He reacted to the name, Malfoy. It was subtle, but the frown between his brows and the confusion in his eyes spoke volumes.

"So, Harry," he said, and the way he caressed Harry's name made goose flesh rise on Harry's arm, "shall we meet here, or – ?"

"Here is fine," Harry agreed, feeling Narcissa watching him. "I'll wait for you out front, yeah?"

Malfoy nodded. "Perfect. Good to see you again, Ma'am."

"And you, _Drew_ ," she answered. And only someone very observant would have seen the pain in her eyes. But Harry was very observant.

"It's got to be some sort of spell," Harry said as he and Narcissa crossed the street. "I know people who are experts on dark spells; they'll at least be able to steer me in the right direction."

"I'm an expert on Dark Magic, Mr Potter," Narcissa said, sounding weary. "And short of Obliviation, I've never seen anything like this. And if he's been Obliviated…"

She didn't need to finish. Harry knew Obliviation was irreversible. They'd reached the Apparition point, and Harry turned to her.

"Still," he said earnestly. "I promise to do what I can."

She assessed him with narrowed eyes. "Just please remember your goal. My son may find you attractive, but your assignment is to discover what's wrong with him. Not shag him."

Harry blinked quickly, startled, and while he was trying to form a reply she disappeared with a pop.

Oo00oo

Harry entered Diagon Alley and made his way back towards WWW. His thoughts were scattered and he was trying valiantly to put them in some sort of order. But it was a lost cause. Every time he thought of Malfoy, in his mind he saw the broad shoulders, strong arms and open smile, and he got no further. Just thinking about him made his pulse quicken, and then he'd hear Narcissa's strained voice. _Your assignment is to discover what's wrong with him, not shag him._

"I don't want to shag him," Harry muttered under his breath. But that was a lie. He wanted very much to shag him.

He was once again trying to focus on what spell might have been used, because he was almost positive there had been one, when he entered the main floor of Wheezes. He realized his mistake right away. It was two weeks before the fall term at Hogwarts, and the shop was packed with parents and their kids, looking at the Weasleys' mad wares. He heard his name begin to be whispered and felt eyes turn his way, and he wondered frantically if he could out run them all if he went back out into the street. He hated this part of his life, and if someone approached him with a note pad and quill... A little girl with red braids was staring at him and digging in her rucksack, and Harry felt a cold sweat began slick his skin.

"Ah, there you are!!" A voice boomed over the growing whispers and Harry felt his knees go weak in relief when George swept down the curving stair case and onto the main floor. "The accountant from the Ministry has been waiting for you for nearly an hour." George tapped the face of his very large and very ornate wrist watch. It did all sorts of things, but the only thing Harry seemed to be able to remember at the moment was that it made a series of loud, obnoxious fart noises. "Time is money, Harry. Time is money." He put his arm firmly around Harry's shoulders and escorted him through the disappointed crowd. "So, so sorry, but the man has things to do, people to see, money to launder."

They reached the stairs but George kept going, escorting Harry to the private lift in the back room. He looked at Harry and shook his head.

"When are you going to remember, Harry? Come in the service entrance. Then, the little monsters and their mummies and daddies can't ambush you."

"I know," Harry said weakly, a bit of his equilibrium returning. "I was preoccupied."

"I noticed," George said, stepping into the lift when the door slid silently open. "The stockroom or your place?"

Harry frowned. "Isn't someone from the ministry…?"

George grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. "I lied. You must remember how good Freddie and I always were with a bit of prevarication."

Harry leaned against the elevator door. "True."

"And you were always dismal at it." George leaned against the wall next to him as the elevator rose and bypassed the stockroom. "Just like you are with crowds. Harry, my dear, you simply have got to get your panic over encroaching crowds out of your system."

Harry closed his eyes. "I know, I know. I just think signing an autograph for…" He shifted uncomfortably.

"Offing the greatest dark bastard of the age," George said.

Harry shook his head. "I won't sign autographs because I killed someone, George. I won't."

George slipped his arm around Harry's shoulder again, pulling him in against his side. "I know, love. And I understand. You just have to try to understand why they ask."

"I do." He put his head on George's shoulder. "Thanks for saving me."

"Anytime, oh saviour of wizard kind. Anytime." He ruffled Harry's hair. "So, where were you, if I might ask? You walked back in here looking a bit shell shocked."

"Oh, I was having lunch." He didn't want to tell George it was with Narcissa Malfoy. That was a story too long to try to tell. But as he recalled her parting shot about him wanting to shag Draco, he felt his face heat and George was simply too smart to miss it.

"Ah ha!" he said triumphantly. "You were on a lunch _date_ , weren't you?" 

The elevator doors opened on a ding, and they exited into Harry's top floor apartment. It was huge, with high ceilings and tall windows that let in tons of light, and exposed brick and ancient wooden floors that had been rubbed smooth by two hundred years of workers' feet. 

"I wasn't on a date," Harry muttered, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it toward the corner where a hat rack stood. It caught the jacket neatly. "I was just – " A thought occurred to him mid-sentence, and he turned back to George. "Hey, is there a spell that imitates Obliviation but can't be detected in the same way?"

George's face took on a cagey look, and Harry felt his heart rate quicken. "Why do you want to know?"

"There's someone who might have been hit with some sort of memory charm. Is there anything – reversible?" 

George's gaze didn't falter. "Why do you want to know?"

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. I had lunch with Narcissa Malfoy. She's found Draco."

George stared at him. "Where?"

Harry was surprised by how hesitant he was to provide George with details. "He works in a Muggle shop in Reading." 

George grinned. "Malfoy in retail, serving the unwashed masses? How amusing. Still not far from his old stomping grounds, though." His expression was assessing. "How do you know he's the victim of a spell and not just faking it? Maybe he wanted to disappear."

Harry gave him and exasperated look. "I was with his mum, George. He didn't know her. At all. And…" He let the words trail away, turning and unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves. He could feel George's eyes on the back of his head. 

"I've got all day, Harry."

Harry turned back. "He just wasn't faking, okay? I can tell the difference."

George crossed his arms. "All day, Harry. All night, too, should it come to that."

"Oh, fuck you," Harry said in irritation. George just smiled. Harry propped his hands on his hips. "He hit on me, okay?"

George's ginger eyebrows shot up. "Did he? Well, well." His eyes narrowed and he looked as if he was considering something. 

"What?" Harry finally prodded.

"Just, there was always quite a bit of sexual tension between the two of you. Now I know why. Old Malfoy was hot for you all along."

"No he wasn't," Harry said dismissively. 

"Oh, I think he was. So does Ginny. She'll be delighted to know that she might have been right."

"Oh, she did not think that. I was with Ginny when we were in school, George."

"Were you really?" George smirked. "Or was she just your beard all along?"

"You know damn well I had no idea I was gay until _after_ Hogwarts," Harry insisted. 

"You say that _now_ ," George went on, and Harry realized if he didn't get control of the conversation, George could do this all day. 

"The spell, George? Is there one?"

The amusement on George's face tempered. "There is one," he admitted finally. 

"How does it work?"

George walked over and flopped on the sofa. "Well, it functions like Obliviate except, unlike it, the memories can be restored."

Harry's heart rate quickened. "They can?"

"There's a counter curse. It's right easy, actually. Much easier to cast than Obliviate."

Harry thought about that. He'd never Obliviated anyone himself, but he knew Hermione could. Of course, Hermione could do about anything, but he also knew a lecture would automatically come along with it if he went to her for help. Especially if he told her it had anything to do with Malfoy. Come to think of it, she'd made some comment about sexual tension and Malfoy once, too. Harry scowled. They were all mad.

"The good thing about _memoria aboleo_ is that – "

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "What's it called?"

" _Memoria aboleo_ ," George said again. "I think the translation is literally like… memory destruction."

Harry shuddered. "It sounds like Ebola."

"What's that?"

"Nasty Muggle virus. Causes diarrhoea and vomiting, and ultimately decreased kidney function."

George stared at him, wide eyed. "I swear to Merlin, Harry. The information you can just pull out of your arse. Give you frizzy hair and a pair of fine knockers, and I'd call you Hermione."

Harry gave him a baleful look. "I saw a special on the telly, you prat. And don't talk about your brother's wife's knockers."

George grinned. "Rather I talk about Dean's arse?"

Harry shuddered. "I'd rather you left all of your siblings spouses out of the conversation. Tell me more about this memory spell."

George threaded his fingers together at his nape. "Well, it was used quite a bit during the war, but it got a bad reputation."

"Why?" Harry sat near George's knees on his coffee table.

"Because it was mostly used on the wrong side of things, that's why. It's easier to use and faster to cast than Obliviate, and the Death Eaters used to cast it on Muggles, then send them out to wander around in the snow. Kids, too."

Harry grimaced. "Bastards."

"You won't hear me arguing with you."

"So, how can you tell that is this… memoria whatever that's been cast, and not Obliviate?"

"Oh, that's easy." George straightened, pulling his wand from his sleeve and pointing it toward Harry. Harry stiffened, his hands palm out in front of him. George huffed. "That's insulting is what that is, Harry."

Harry gave him a level stare. "George, the last time you pulled your wand near me, I was farting glitter for a month."

George giggled. "Hey, it was Ginny's idea. She called you _fairy arse_. I just provided the visual accompaniment."

"It was damned embarrassing, George."

"But funny. Admit it; if I'd cast that on Seamus, you'd have laughed."

Harry rolled his eyes. "On Seamus it would have been hilarious. On me, it wasn't."

"You have no sense of humour, Harry." But George shifted on the couch until his wand was pointed over the arm. "The wand motion on this one is complicated to cast, but not to undo." He showed Harry the motion, and he thought he could cast it. 

"How can you tell the difference between it and Obliviate if it's been cast on someone?"

"It leaves a residue."

"A residue?" 

"Yep. When it's cast, for just a moment a bright purple light surrounds the victim. To check, you merely have to say the incantation twice while touching your wand, without the movement. A faint purple glow appears on the skin, for just a second."

"Okay," Harry murmured. "So, if it is… that spell, how do you reverse it?"

"You repeat the incantation while reversing the wand motion."

"That's it?"

"That's it. I've never understood why the Ministry still keeps it illegal. It's basically harmless and easily undone."

"Unless someone decides to cast it and turn you loose in a blizzard."

George shrugged nonchalantly. "Point. So what's Malfoy like, once his memory's been wiped away?"

Harry thought about it. "He's… surprisingly nice, actually. Friendly, even charming. His co-workers like him…"

"His Muggle co-workers like him," George said, his voice flat. "Now I know you're having one on."

"No, really. There's a girl named Moira, and she was actually teasing him."

"Teasing Malfoy." George shook his head. "A Muggle. That's incomprehensible. So, how does he look, after living three years as a Muggle?"

Harry averted his eyes. "He looks… fine. Not as pointy." He felt his cheeks heat and damned his fair complexion. 

"Fine. Not as pointy," George repeated wryly. "Well done, Harry. He could be a flagging erection from that description."

Harry laughed in spite of himself. "He looks good, George," he finally admitted. "Really, really good."

"So," George said slowly. "He looks good, and he's charming. And you want to attempt to reverse this spell… why? Think of humanity, Harry."

Harry's grin flattened. "His mother wants her son back, George. And I owe her."

George sighed. "That, you do. Called in the Life Debt, did she?"

"Wouldn't your mum?"

George stared unseeing across the large flat. "If she could get Freddie back, I think she'd call in a dozen life debts." He straightened. "Okay, let's teach you this spell, yeah? So you can return Mrs Malfoy's obnoxious little boy?"

Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve, preparing to follow George's instruction even while he thought losing the sunny, smiling Malfoy was a bloody shame.

oo00oo

Harry followed Malfoy up dimly lit stairs to Malfoy's flat, watching the muscles shift in his arse as he climbed and swallowing a groan.

He desperately hoped he'd be able to find a way to check for the memory spell, cast the counter curse if he should be so lucky, then get the hell out of there. If he had to spend much more time in Malfoy's company, he was going to do something really, really stupid.

He'd waited for Malfoy outside the chip shop until he was off work, and had nearly swallowed his tongue when he had emerged wearing snug white trousers with the thin white jumper. Harry was pretty sure he'd been wearing black trousers earlier. Now he looked lean and cool, his hair slightly gelled and stylishly tousled. Harry had merely stared at him, unable to think of a single thing to say. 

As he neared, Malfoy slowed, his smile flattening. "Is… something wrong?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "No, no, no. Not at all. No, you look good. Really good. And – I'm babbling." 

Harry shoved his hands into his pocket, his face so hot he was sure it was bright red. Malfoy gave him a slow, sultry smile, and his face got hotter and his trousers abruptly tighter. 

"I like it," Malfoy assured him. "It's cute. You're cute." 

Harry stopped himself from twisting his toe on the sidewalk in the universal sign of bashfulness. The evening was going to test his powers of endurance, that was for sure.

They started out at a small cafe around the corner where they split an appetizer and chatted. The more they talked, the more convinced Harry became that someone had cursed Malfoy. When Harry asked about his past, where he'd gone to school, etc., Malfoy had reddened and told him that before the date went much further he had something to confess. He told of how he'd regained consciousness in hospital, unaware of who or where he was. The woman who found him was a widow with a small farm, and when she'd understood his condition had offered him a job. He'd waited for his memory to spontaneously return, which the doctor had said was most likely, but it hadn't. He moved into Reading and went to work in the chip shop when she'd sold her farm and moved away, but he still missed her four children, all under the age of nine.

Harry found himself listening to Malfoy, amazed at how different he was. He talked about how the woman's little girl, named Chelsea, had followed him around like a puppy and how he'd loved her. He talked about when he'd lost his memory, he seemed to lose the capacity to do even the simplest things. The microwave had been beyond him, and it was almost like he had no idea what a telly even was. Malfoy laughed about it now, but Harry could only imagine how scary that must have been. If anyone had been ill equipped to live as a Muggle, it was Draco Malfoy. And yet, he was managing. He had a job, and a flat, and friends. In spite of himself, Harry was impressed and utterly charmed. 

After eating, Malfoy lead Harry to small gay bar. Harry was horrified. He couldn't dance to save his life. 

"Oh, it can't be that bad," Malfoy laughed.

"Yes, it really can," Harry countered, but Malfoy had merely pulled him out on the dance floor. Of course, Malfoy was sex on legs when he moved to the music, making Harry feel even more self-conscious. He'd tried to back off of the dance floor, but Malfoy had smiled gently and pulled him into his arms. Surrounded by all of that lean muscle had made Harry feel less awkward and when Malfoy had slipped his arm around Harry's waist and pulled him in, Harry caught his breath. Nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing. When a faster song started, and Malfoy turned him, pressing against his back, hips moving forward, Harry hardened in the dark jeans. When Malfoy pressed his lips to his ear and said, "Come home with me," before he even managed to give it any thought, he was nodding. 

All of the way from the club to the stairs he was currently climbing, Harry told himself he was only going with Malfoy because it would give him the opportunity to test and see if the spell George told him about was the one that had been cast on his old nemesis. But no matter how he tried, it was growing harder and harder to think of Malfoy as anything other than a spectacular looking bloke he wanted to get horizontal with in the worst way. 

Malfoy unlocked his flat and stepped aside, letting Harry proceed him into the room. One lamp burned on a small table next to a large comfortable looking couch, and Harry noticed that while the furnishings looked worn and the building was old, everything appeared to be meticulously clean. The floors gleamed in the light of the one lamp, the table in front of the couch was free of clutter and the air smelled fresh with something, eucalyptus maybe. That was all he had time to notice, because once the door was closed Malfoy was in front of him. Close in front of him, so close Harry could feel his body heat. He reached and cupped Harry's chin in his palm, lifting it until Harry had no choice but to look into his wide, grey eyes. 

"I want to kiss you," Malfoy said softly. "I've wanted to since you walked into the chip shop this afternoon. Is that weird?"

Harry's heart was pounding in his throat, and behind his zipper. He shook his head as much as Malfoy's grip on his jaw would allow. "I don't think it is," he whispered back.

"Good."

That was all the conversation they shared. Malfoy leaned in, covering Harry's mouth with his, kissing him gently but thoroughly, and Harry gave as good as he got. Lips pressed, caressed, and a sleek, sinuous tongue pressed against the seam of Harry's lips. He parted them, welcoming it in with a soft moan. Malfoy swept his tongue over Harry's teeth, teasing behind his top lip, gliding along his tongue. Harry's tongue felt sluggish by comparison, but he managed to suck on Malfoy's, holding it against the roof of his mouth. Malfoy made a sound like a soft growl low in his throat and his arms went around Harry's body, lifting him up against his chest, holding him up on his toes. Without thought, Harry lifted one leg and wrapped it over Malfoy's hip, opening himself to the press of Malfoy's groin, to the heat and hardness of cock on cock, separated only by a few layers of fabric.

Malfoy tore his lips from Harry's. "God," he gasped, dropping one hand to Harry's arse, grabbing a handful. "I want you more than I've wanted anyone in so long."

"Yeah," Harry said, mouthing Malfoy's jaw. "That."

"I want to fuck you." 

Heat streaked down Harry's spine, and even as Malfoy was saying it, he knew he wanted it, wanted to be filled. His arse clenched, and his other leg came up and he locked his ankles around Malfoy's hips. He arched forward, rubbing himself against Malfoy's rigid erection. Malfoy laughed desperately. 

"Wait, just… hold on… bedroom."

He turned and staggered a few steps, but it was clear that wasn't going to work. 

"Here," Malfoy said, pulling Harry's legs from his hips and setting him on his feet. He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him across the room.

Once he wasn't pressed against Malfoy's heat any longer, a modicum of sanity returned, but only enough that Harry knew if he got undressed in front of Malfoy, his wand was strapped to his forearm. He put on the brakes. Malfoy turned back, his brows raised in question.

"Bathroom?" Harry inquired. 

"Oh, sure." Malfoy pointed. "Right through there."

Harry spared him a nervous smile, then crossed to the door, slipping inside. He flipped on the light, and stood staring at himself in the mirror above the sink.

He looked pale, his green eyes very wide, his black lashes very dark. His hair was tousled where Malfoy's hands had been in it, and he could see his chest rising and falling with each drawn breath. 

Was he really going to do this? Was he going to have sex with Malfoy, a Malfoy who had no idea who he even was, who Harry was to him? It was underhanded at best, but he wanted him so much, and it had been so long… 

Harry tore his jacket off, reached into his sleeve and yanked off his harness and wand, wrapping all of it in a tight ball. He didn't look at himself again, just put his rolled up coat on top of a closed laundry hamper. He took a deep breath, slapped off the light and exited the bathroom. 

Malfoy was waiting for him outside the door and when he extended his hand, Harry looked at it. He could take his hand and walk with him into the bedroom, or he could make his excuses and leave, taking the information to Kingsley, who could find Malfoy and reverse the curse himself. But as he looked up into the clear grey eyes, saw the want in them, the need, he found he couldn't do it. He needed too, wanted too, maybe had for longer than he could even admit it to himself. He took Malfoy's hand, allowed himself to be pulled through another doorway into a bedroom where he could see the dim shadow of a bed.

"Harry," Malfoy whispered, pulling him into his arms again, nuzzling his neck. "Are you okay with this?"

Here it was, another opportunity to do what was probably the right thing, and he just couldn't. "Yes," he whispered instead. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Of that I have no doubt." He felt Malfoy's teeth nip his throat, and he arched into the sting, realizing he couldn't think of a man he was about to let fuck him as ‘Malfoy'. He was Draco, Draco who held him, Draco who was now sucking on the spot he'd nipped on Harry's throat, and Harry reached up and sank his hand into the fair hair. Draco's mouth came back to Harry's, and Harry nipped at his lips, gave a teasing bite to the faintly pointed chin. Draco made another soft sound, his hands going to the buttons down Harry's chest. 

After that everything was sort of a blur. Draco pulled off Harry's shirt, and they pulled apart long enough for Harry to yank Draco's sweater off over his head. Lips merged, tongues tangled, hands went to the buttons and zips on trousers. Pants were pushed down, shoes kicked off, hands slid over revealed acres of skin. Draco ran his hand the length of Harry's spine, then turned him, pushing him down on the bed and lying down beside him. He pulled Harry to him, kissing him with aching thoroughness and passion, then rolled them until Harry was beneath him.

Harry clutched at Draco's back, revelling in the feeling of all of the smooth bare skin, all of the long, tensile muscle moving on top of him. Draco's long, slender cock brushed against his shorter, thicker one, and Harry arched, spreading his legs, his hands sliding down to fill with Draco's full, muscular arse. Draco shifted his weight onto his side, and then his hand was between them, stroking Harry's cock, fondling his balls, long fingers reaching further back to brush the sensitive rim of Harry's hole. Harry whimpered but didn't even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed that such a needy sound had come from his throat.

Draco moved away for a moment, and Harry heard a drawer open and close. He tried to get his breathing to even, but he couldn't. His heart was beating too fast, his lungs felt tight. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd needed so much, when he'd been so hard. He felt a drop of precome slip into his navel from the tip of his cock, and he reached out his hand to touch Draco just to maintain contact with him. Draco found his fingers and squeezed them, then moved back between his thighs. Harry heard the sharp snap of a bottle opening, then moments later felt the smooth glide of lube as Draco rubbed some into the furled skin of his arsehole.

From that moment forward Harry slipped into a sort of trance. Every touch ramped him higher, every caress made him harder. Draco massaged his opening before breaching it with one gentle finger, then two. He fucked him with them carefully, leaning down to take Harry's prick into his mouth. He curled the fingers inside and found and caressed the knob of his gland, and Harry squeaked, his back arching. 

"There?" Draco whispered, stroking it again. Harry dug his nails into the forearm between his legs.

"You keep that up, and it won't be much of a party." Harry managed to keep his voice even, and Draco chuckled. 

"You're ready?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry gasped. 

He watched Draco open a condom wrapper, and it was a surreal moment. The wizards he'd had sex with didn't use a condom. They didn't need one. For some reason, they were immune to STD's. But Draco wouldn't know that, would he? He didn't remember being a wizard, didn't know that he and Harry knew each other. Hated each other.

The thought slid away as Draco parted Harry's thighs and pushed his knees toward his chest and settled in the resulting cradle, his cock in his hand as he positioned it. Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax.

It had been a long time, and Draco's entry burned but Harry relished it. He loved the ache, loved the slow slide inside, loved the feeling when a man's balls settled against his arse. Draco's prick had a slight curve, and it brushed over Harry's already awakened prostate, sending a jolt of electricity up his spine. His toes curled and his neck arched, and Draco curled his fingers around Harry's nape, pulled him up and kissed him.

Harry fell into the kiss, into the feeling of being filled and kissed and fucked and let the sensation carry him away. That little curve in Draco's cock sent an almost overwhelming jolt of pleasure through him every time he moved inside of him, and Harry spread his legs further, curled his pelvis up into each downward thrust, and begged.

"Please, oh gods, harder. There, harder, harder!"

Draco responded to each desperate plea and it wasn't long before he was slamming into Harry as hard as he could, and Harry was as open as he could make himself, babbling his pleasure. 

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," he sobbed. "I'm gonna come, Draco. I'm gonna come."

"Then come," Draco ordered. And Harry did. With a long, drawn out cry he shot between them and moments later Draco stiffened, shaking and gasping as his thrusts lost rhythm and his body bowed forward. His forehead pressed into Harry's shoulder hard as he came, and his body shuddered in Harry's arms.

Silence fell after that. Draco stayed inside of Harry until he softened and slipped out, and the whole time Harry held him in his arms, his hands moving up and down the long curve of Draco's spine. It was several minutes before Harry realized he'd used Draco's name as he came, and by then Draco had tucked his face into Harry's shoulder and with a few muttered words had gone to sleep.

Harry held as still as he could for another few minutes, just to be sure Draco was truly asleep before he slipped from beneath his weight. Sanity had returned during the interim, and now all Harry wanted was to be out of that bed. Just as he was going to slide to his feet, and hand closed around his arm, stopping him, and he stiffened.

"Whereyougoin?" Draco mumbled. "Wanna hold you."

"I'll be right back," Harry lied. "Loo."

"Mmm." Draco sighed and rolled to his back, his arm across his eyes. "K…come back."

Harry didn't answer. His voice was locked in his throat and he couldn't say a word. 

As quietly as he could, Harry collected his clothes and slipped out of the bedroom and into the bath, closing the door silently behind him. He leaned against it for a moment, his eyes closed, then he struggled into his pants and his trousers, fighting with the sleeve of his jacket to remove his wand.

He tiptoed back into the bedroom. Draco hadn't moved, and his chest rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm. He looked utterly at peace, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if he wouldn't be happier if he just stayed Drew, working in the chip shop, living in his small walk up. But that wasn't what Harry had promised, wasn't what he was indebted to do, and he raised his wand and mouthed the words _Memoria aboleo_ twice. For just a moment, a faint purple glow appeared around all of Draco's beautiful pale skin, then faded into it as if it had never been. Harry closed his eyes in both relief and disappointment. Relieved for Narcissa Malfoy, disappointed for himself. Because once Malfoy remembered who he was, he'd want nothing to do with Harry Potter.

He performed the incantation to reverse the spell silently, exactly as George had taught him, then got dressed and slipped out of Draco's apartment. He took the stairs as quickly as he could, then jogged to the Apparition point. He Apparated, arrived in his apartment, and stripped off as he crossed his living room. Once in his shower, he stood under the hot water until his skin felt raw. 

He wasn't able to sleep until dawn was streaking the sky in the east with weak orange light.

oo00oo

"I see Mummy Malfoy has her golden boy back."

Harry managed not to flinch as George slapped the _Daily Prophet_ down on a crate next to where he had been unpacking the latest generation of the Skivving Snack Boxes. These were filled with not just Fever Fudge and Puking Pustiles, but Hay Fever Honeycomb that induced sneezing and runny eyes, and Flu Fancies that caused an array of influenza symptoms. 

George dropped into the chair behind his desk and leaned back, his legs crossed at the ankles and his feet propped on the edge. "It's right there, on the front page."

In spite of himself, Harry glanced over. There was a picture of Draco Malfoy looking heart-stoppingly handsome in fancy formal robes, standing with his arm around his mother's shoulders. His smile looked genuine, but Harry liked him better in denims and a black apron. He went back to counting the small red snack boxes.

"Come on, Harry," George said, his feet dropping heavily to the floor. "You never did tell me when you were able to reverse the spell, or how you were able to do it without Malfoy being the wiser. Come on, Mate. Enquiring minds want to know."

Harry shot him an irritated look, then wrote down the number of snack boxes on the docket and continued to the next open crate. It held boxes of Peruvian instant darkness powder and miniature action figures of Hagrid and Norbert the baby dragon. He began to count them.

"Could the vile mood you've been in for the last week have anything to do with the reversal of the spell?" Harry continued to ignore him. He could feel George's eyes following his movements, but he didn't so much as glance his way. George stood with a huff. "Fine, don't tell me. Can at least tell me if you feel better, now that you've taken care of the Life Debt?"

Harry paused. It wasn't George's fault, after all, that he'd allowed himself to care for someone he never should have been with to start.

"Yes. I'm glad the Life Debt has been repaid. Now, let the rest go, George. Please."

He heard George approach, then pause just out of reach. "Are you okay, Harry?" he asked.

Harry hesitated, but George was his friend. He at least owed him the truth. "No," he muttered. "But I will be."

He could almost feel George processing his answer. "Whatever you say, Harry," he said finally, and Harry heard him turn and leave the storage room.

Harry sat heavily on top of one of the crates, tossing aside the clipboard with the shipping receipt on it, burying his face in his hands. He had to get over it, had to move on. But with the _Prophet_ going on about 'the recovered Malfoy Heir' and everyone in the shop gossiping about it around him, Harry wondered if he'd ever hear the end of it. He was glad Draco was home, glad his mother had her son back. He just didn't want to hear about it anymore. Didn't want to think about it anymore. Didn't want to ask himself over and over again what if he and Draco could manage to get past their adolescent animosity? Was there anything there other than a spectacular shag? He sighed, rubbing his face, spearing his fingers up into his hair. When he heard someone coming into the store room behind him, he quickly picked up the clip board and pretended to study it.

Several tense minutes went by before Harry tossed the clip board aside again. "What the fuck do you want, George?" Harry said as he turned. "I told you…"

The words died in his throat as he saw not just George standing inside the curtain that separated the sales floor from the backroom, but Draco Malfoy as well. He was wearing dark denims and a black jumper, his pale hair artfully gelled and falling over his forehead, and his grey eyes watchful.

"Someone to see you, Harry," George said with a grin, his eyes sparkling. 

Harry licked his lips. "I, uhm…" He gestured vaguely with the clipboard. "Busy… here."

"You're not that busy," George said. "Take a break, Harry. Talk to the man." He looked between them, apparently picking up on the uncomfortable, watchful waiting. "While I, on the other hand, get the hell out." He turned and left and Harry took a step away from the crate, shoving his hands into his back pocket. The silence stretched out.

"You didn't linger long enough to allow me to thank you," Draco said, taking a careful step closer. "You restored my mother to me, and my memories. They aren't all pleasant, but they're mine. And I am grateful."

"You're welcome," Harry muttered. "Do you know who cursed you?" He glanced over in time to see Draco's eyes harden. 

"Parkinson," he answered. "She didn't take well to finding out I was never going to marry her."

"Ah." Harry shifted awkwardly, taking a step back when Draco took a step forward. 

"Why did you disappear like that?" Draco asked. Harry looked at him in surprise. Whatever he might have expected, it wasn't the frank curiosity.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me." Draco took another step, and this time Harry stayed put. "Tell me. Why did you leave?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Surely the saviour of the wizarding world wasn't scared?"

Harry laughed. "Well, I honestly thought you might hex me." He gave a small sigh. As much as he liked _Drew_ he was glad the old Malfoy was back.

Draco looked startled. "Why would I do that? I enjoyed myself. Didn't you?"

Harry glanced toward the curtain, then back. "Yeah," he admitted finally. "I did. A lot."

"But, you wanted a one off?" Draco came closer. "Not anything… maybe more significant than that?"

Harry studied him openly now, his eyes wide. "Do you? Want… something more?"

Draco's lips quirked in a half smile. "Sounds mad, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, actually," Harry agreed. "It sounds mad." He didn't retreat when Draco took another step and stopped in front of him, close enough that he had to look up into his eyes. 

"You know, people have called me a lot of creative things over the years," Draco said, studying Harry's face. "Mad is a new one. But maybe it's time for something… different."

Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed.

"Different. That's certainly one thing to call it."

"It works," Draco said. "In the meantime, I'd like to buy you lunch, if you're interested. Maybe start again."

Harry thought about it. Was he? Hell yes. But should he? He studied Draco's open, waiting face and thought that, just maybe, it was time to take a chance.

Instead of waiting for Draco to offer, Harry held out his hand.

"Why not. Let's go scandalise the wizarding world."

Draco took the offered hand and slipped it into the crook of his arm. "Sounds like fun."

Harry smirked. "It'll be something." 

"It'll be perfect," Draco countered. 

They walked out of the store room arm in arm.

**Author's Note:**

> If so inclined, please leave a comment here or at [LiveJournal](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/277596.html). Comments are ♥.


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